


I do forgive thy robb'ry, gentle thief

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Any Old Diamonds - K.J. Charles, Lilywhite Boys Series - K. J. Charles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Heist, Kidnapping, M/M, Pre-Slash, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: “Jerry?” Alec asked.He’d started out the night calling Jerry “Vane”, until Jerry had convinced him to use his first name. It was kind of sweet that he was now continuing the practice while Jerry was standing there in front of their host's safe, holding in one hand a skeleton key and in the other hand a switchblade.“Alec! How odd to run into you here. Tell me, what were you doing under Sir William’s bed?”
Relationships: Jerry Crozier/Alexander "Alec" Pyne-ffoulkes
Comments: 29
Kudos: 96
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	I do forgive thy robb'ry, gentle thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChristyCorr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristyCorr/gifts).



Jerry Crozier—current alias Gerald Vane—loved a good house party. Even the most boring ones were a very good excuse to lurk around in the house of a rich man and peek into the various corners during spare moments. And Sir William Cooke’s house party was not really boring at all; the guests knew each other well enough to freely converse, knew Jerry exactly enough to not interrogate him or care about him on a personal level, and there were a variety of entertaining individuals. The usual nobility, but a few odds and ends as well. A talented soprano. A writer known for his satirical articles. A man Jerry had a strong feeling was a con artist, not that he was going to do anything about it. A portraitist, who stubbornly claimed he was mostly an illustrator and the portrait work was just a recent venture.

The portraitist was probably the most interesting of the bunch.

His sketches were pretty good, for one thing. “Just preliminary,” he said when Sir William showed them around the group. “I still need to make a more final study of Sir William in the pose we’ve decided on…”

“Alec is awfully good, though. He’s already painted Lady Cooke,” Sir William said, gesturing towards a painting on the wall that Jerry had assumed was done by some acclaimed talent at an outlandish cost. “The living image of her, don’t you agree?”

It was.

The portraitist cleared his throat. “Well, I was flattered by the commission, of course. And Lady Cooke was an interesting subject to work on. Her face has so much character.”

Jerry wasn’t sure what he found most interesting about the portraitist (Alec Pyne, as Sir William had introduced him, inviting a couple oddly knowing looks from some of the others—what that was about, Jerry would have to find out late). Was it his humility, that he didn’t brag about his work? Conversely, was it his pride, the fact that he didn’t really flush or deny his talent either? Of course Jerry liked the artistic talent itself too—he’d always thought himself to have taste in that area, and at least Templeton would back him up—but it wasn’t really that, and it wasn’t really his humility or his pride or any professional attribute either, although it was fun to listen to him discourse on method.

It might have been partly his looks. It might have been how absolutely terrible he was at billiards. But Jerry thought it was mostly the fact that when Jerry offered to give him a pointer or two at billiards, and bracketed him to help him with holding the queue, Alec slightly leaned into his touch, and seemed unusually appreciative of Jerry’s instructions.

He was, Jerry thought to himself, a Prospect. If Jerry got out of this without blowing his cover, he might look him up later. Or if he had some free time in the next couple nights while he was still at the prolonged party, he might find his way to Alec’s room. And not to steal his belongings, because to all appearances, despite Sir William’s recent commission, the portraitist was very broke.

So when he finished with his billiard pointers, he ran a hand lightly down Alec’s arm for just a little too long. “At least,” he said as his final comment, “you know how to hold the stick well.”

This was a lie. Alec was doing a very bad job of holding the billiard stick. But it made him blush slightly, and say, “Thank you. I hope I’ll play a little bit better then.” He met Jerry’s eyes boldly, eyebrows slightly raised.

Jerry really needed to find some free time this evening. It was the evening he had slated for breaking into Sir William’s safe, but he didn’t expect the theft to be discovered until morning, so… maybe he could put off the get-away a while? Hm.

Templeton would probably murder him.

The evening was progressing nicely and fairly quietly until a couple new guests were announced to the room. “Duke and Duchess Ilvar have arrived,” a butler said. “They are waiting in the foyer.”

Sir William, who had been playing cards, rose. “Ah yes. I’ll greet them. It will be a few minutes,” he told the room at large.

Everyone was throwing sharp looks at each other. Duke and Duchess Ilvar were not so popular—Jerry knew that already. He’d been surprised to learn they’d even be invited to this gathering, and thought it possible that Sir William owed them a favor. The soprano, who was sitting on the other side of the room, murmured to her companion, “Do you think she’ll be wearing the parure?”

The companion spoke too quietly for Jerry to hear, but judging by his body language, his answer was negative.

Jerry turned back to Alec, wondering if he could incite the fairly courteous man to gossip, but Alec seemed to have disappeared. How disappointing. But he had little time to think about it; Sir William ushered in Duke and Duchess Ilvar, and Jerry received his first, and quite bad, impression of the couple. The Duke was imperious and condescending, even to Sir William. The Duchess, who migrated over to where a few women were playing cards, was loudly critical—her only redeeming quality was that although she was wearing no parure, she was wearing an exquisite diamond necklace. Jerry wondered if the real reason people disliked the Ilvars was nothing to do with the scandalous rumors about them and more to do with their manners. He also wondered whether he would be able to grab that necklace later.

For now, though, he did not spend long pondering what-ifs. It was time for him to begin the night in earnest. He told Sir William that he’d be going to bed, and excused himself.

“I’m not the only one who left,” he said to Templeton in a low voice as they headed through the hallways. “Three people have already claimed headaches. Of course Sir William and Lady Cooke will have to endure the Ilvars until the bitter end, but…”

“No need for an alibi when half the others won’t have one either.” Templeton smirked. "If we have to stick around, that is."

They understood each other.

Sir William’s safe was in his room. Therefore, it was relatively safe to assume that with him playing host for at least another hour—and to such demanding individuals as the Ilvars!—he would not have occasion to go there, and no one else should be snooping around there either. (Unless the con artist was a different type of con artist than Jerry thought he was.) Nevertheless, Templeton would stand as lookout outside the door, and if he gave the signal, Jerry would escape out the window while Templeton held up whoever approached from entering. So it was fairly safe to break this safe.

It was a good prospect, too. Sir William was not known as a jewel hoarder, but it was known to a select few that he’d recently bought a number of rubies and sapphires as an investment, planning to sell them off again at a higher price in a few months. The safe should have Lady Cooke’s jewelry, too, as she did not have a safe of her own according to Jerry’s sources. Lady Cooke wasn’t a jewel either, but she was a lady of the Ton, and she kept up appearances.

In short, it would be a good take, and Jerry was prepared to take it. But as he crouched down next to the safe, skeleton key in hand, he heard a rustling behind him. Immediately he sprang to his feet and grasped inside his coat—he had a fair choice of weapons with him, never unprepared even in evening dress. A voice emanated from, of all places, underneath the bed.

“Sir William, I wish you’d…”

The voice trailed off as the individual speaking emerged from under the bed. It was Alec Pyne, hair and clothes a bit mussed, expression confused.

“Jerry?” he asked.

He’d started out the night calling Jerry “Vane”, until Jerry had convinced him to use his first name. It was kind of sweet that he was now continuing the practice while Jerry was standing there holding a skeleton key and, in his other hand, a switchblade—the switchblade being the first weapon he had found in his search.

He didn’t want to cut Alec, though, (waste of a pretty face that would be,) so he put the knife away and took out a handkerchief. “Alec! How odd to run into you here. Tell me, what were you doing under Sir William’s bed?”

Alec looked at the ground. “I suppose I… well, I was…”

Jerry was honestly curious what excuse he’d come up with and what the real reason was (couldn’t be theft when he’d come out of his own free will), but there were more important matters at hand. So while Alec was prevaricating, he stepped over to his side, grabbed his neck, and covered his mouth with the handkerchief, which had been soaked in chloroform earlier just in case.

Alec’s reaction was a little delayed. For a moment he froze, body stiffening, the muscles in his neck tensing under Jerry’s hand. Then he began to twist out of Jerry’s grip, putting up more of a fight—but Jerry had a hell of a grip when he really tried, and in the moment of pause, Alec had already breathed in some of the chloroform—and the more he struggled, the harder he breathed. It was over within a few minutes, leaving Alec limp in Jerry’s arms.

Jerry being a polite fellow, he lifted Alec onto the bed and even fixed his hair, which had gotten even messier during the tussle, before turning back to the safe.

This was a simpler safe than many of Jerry’s recent jobs. It only took about ten minutes to crack. He opened it—there appeared to be some documents on the top shelf, and beneath it a small satchel. The sapphires and rubies, surely. He took it out…

And discovered that it held nothing but a number of… teeth?

Why on Earth would anyone keep a tiny bag of teeth in their safe?

With a grimace, Jerry placed the bag back in the safe. The documents too—they were no good to him. But where were the jewels? Forget the recent investment, he couldn’t even find Lady Cooke’s jewelry in here. And Lady Cooke certainly had jewels—she’d been wearing some nice earrings and a pearl bracelet just tonight. Then, then…

He searched the safe for another several minutes, growing increasingly frustrated, until he heard Alec starting to stir. He hurried over to the bed and applied more chloroform until Alec was still again. Then he sighed. The safe seemed to be a lost cause.

Cautiously he opened the door and beckoned Templeton inside.

Templeton stared at Alec. “When did he get here?”

“He was hiding under the bed. I knocked him out, it’s fine. This—” Jerry gestured at the safe. “—is not fine. The jewels aren’t here.”

Templeton let out a low stream of curses, ending with a final “Fuck. After all the work we did to get in here, the research…”

“We can’t just give up.” Jerry pursed his lips. “Technically we were invited to stay another two days, Templeton. If we don’t scarper quite yet, we might still find the jewels. The safe has to be somewhere else in the house.”

“Can’t go searching tonight, though. Everyone’s going to bed soon—it’s likely to be in Lady Cooke’s room, and she’ll be retiring shortly. And if we wait till tomorrow, what about him?” Templeton nodded at Alec.

Jerry considered the matter, then grinned. “Well, he’s just a portraitist. I don’t think anyone will worry all that much if he goes missing for a couple of days, do you? Sir William brags about him, so he might be a bit miffed, but still. If Alec were to be called away unexpectedly, I don’t think anyone would question it.”

“…all right, but where to stash him?”

“My room will do as well as anywhere. You’ve already let the servants know I’m picky, and don’t like anyone but you in there.”

Templeton grunted. “All right. We’ll have to keep this short, though. Kidnappings never end well.”

“Short and sweet,” Jerry drawled. “And don’t worry. Kidnappings go badly because people ask for ransom, and it gets messy. Keeping a pretty artist out of the way for a little while shouldn’t be any trouble at all.”

* * *

Alec woke up feeling dizzy. Jerry Vane was peering at his face. “Hey, old chap, how are you feeling? Chloroform’s kind of a bitch. I didn’t give you a very high dose, though—you should be fine in an hour or so.”

Alec was going to answer—and he wasn’t even sure what he was going to say—but he realized as soon as he tried to speak that there was a gag in his mouth. At around the same time he realized that while he was out, someone had tied his hands and legs—with some sort of cord, not exactly rope. Jerry, who was looking sympathetic but not particularly concerned, was the most obvious “someone”.

Alec’s breath quickened.

He remembered, now. He’d been hiding in Sir William’s own room, thinking it might be the best place to avoid the man looking for him, trying to get him to come back out and rejoin the party. Sir William had assured him that the Duke and Duchess of Ilvar wouldn’t be coming here, assured him that he’d given up his foolish plan to get them and Alec to resolve their differences. He’d lied, so Alec hadn’t felt all that bad about sneaking into his room to hide, and had even hid under the bed when he’d thought the old man had come in looking for him or for something. Then when the person who came in hadn’t left, he’d worried that Sir William might actually be going to bed or staying a while, and hiding under the bed became an untenable position. So he’d come out, and it had been Jerry, looking dashing and incredibly suspicious with a knife in one hand.

He’d put the knife away, so Alec had figured it was nothing. But then...

Alec hadn’t thought it was chloroform. He’d thought Jerry was trying to smother him to death. _Like Mother_ , he’d thought dimly, and vaguely he’d connected Jerry with the Duke downstairs—he didn’t know much about Jerry; had the Duke hired him as some sort of assassin to get rid of a shameful son?—and he’d struggled and fought as breathing grew harder and the world grew less steady…

Anyways. Chloroform. Alec studied Jerry a bit more calmly now. Of course the Duke hadn’t been trying to kill him; his father barely even acknowledged his existence. But then what had Jerry been trying to do?

“If you’re waiting for me to apologize,” Jerry said cheerfully, “don’t hold your breath. I’ll admit it’s tough luck, you getting involved and all that, but you really shouldn’t hide under people’s beds, you know. Otherwise, you reap the consequences. Imagine if you’d encountered a jealous lover or a policeman instead of a friendly jewel thief like me. Really, you got lucky in a way.”

He sat down beside Alec. Alec was lying on a bed, he realized now—not in Sir William’s room, but in one of the manor’s guest rooms. Not his own room either.

Jerry said, “Anyways, I don’t apologize except when I’m lying. Because I don’t really feel sorry for things.” He ran a hand over Alec’s hair, making Alec blush. “I had to knock you out and tie you up for the sake of the game; that can’t be helped. And it’s not the most unpleasant thing, is it? Apart from the dizziness, I mean.”

The dizziness was still pretty bad, but not bad enough. To his horror, Alec realized he was starting to get aroused. He’d known situations like this—being under the power of a firm and charming man, especially one who had seemed earlier in the evening to be attracted to him—got to him in certain ways. But this man was a thief. Surely Alec’s body, or his mind or whatever got this sort of reaction, should have known the difference.

Apparently it didn’t.

The door opened, and Alec managed to sit up, but it was only Jerry’s valet, who was completed undisturbed at the sight of Alec trussed up like a goose. He said to Jerry, “Brought his things back. His room should look abandoned.”

“Good, we’ll put them under the bed.”

The things the valet had brought back were Alec’s things, his bag and the few clothes he had unpacked. Jerry explained as he stowed them away, “We have to make it look like you headed out to town. Took ill or something. Don’t worry—we won’t steal your clothes. Unless you have a nice watch in there something. I might take a look.” He winked at Alec, and Alec finally found the clarity of mind and utter fury at the situation to glare in response.

This did not seem to bother Jerry, who merely patted him on the shoulder and sent Templeton away. He then changed for bed, not seeming to mind Alec’s gaze on his back, and informed Alec that they’d be sharing the bed for the night.

“In the morning I’ll probably have to stash you in the wardrobe or something, but I don’t think you’d want to sleep there. No one’s going to be coming in tonight. And we’ve all had a long day.” Jerry yawned. “Hope you don’t mind too much.”

Alec did mind. He was tense for maybe a half hour after Jerry had fallen asleep (with his arms around Alec—he had told Alec that he was concerned Alec might try to attack him while he was sleeping, so this was for the best). Partly thinking about the possibility that Jerry might wake up or the valet might come in and press a pillow over his face. Partly just thinking about having a warm body so close—he rarely went home with anyone he met at the bars, and he never brought anyone back to his own place, and he certainly would never have done this at a house party. _What if a maid did come in_ , he thought, and the prospect scared him more than Jerry did, even though certainly his own position was not incriminating. Just embarrassing. Him being tied up, and lying next to a man who seemed to feel no compunction at taking these liberties…

And then he was hard again, and that made it difficult to fall asleep too.

He did fall asleep eventually, though, and slept surprisingly well.

* * *

It wasn’t the best idea to keep a beautiful portrait artist tied up in one’s bed. It made one think about all kinds of things in the morning which unfortunately would have to be put off—and in fact would probably never happen, at least not with this particular portrait artist. Still, Alec did look good that way. Jerry admired him for a while after getting dressed, then woke him up, informed him that he was going out for a while, and carefully folded him into the wardrobe. Seeing as it would probably be a few hours, he made sure Alec’s position wasn’t completely terrible, and left one of the pillows in the wardrobe as well to cushion his head. Nevertheless, he made sure to tie the handles of the wardrobe so that Alec wouldn’t be able to kick it open. Unfortunately there was no way to ensure he wouldn’t thrash around and make enough noise that someone would think to go into Jerry’s room after all. Jerry would simply have to bank on the fact that Sir William’s walls seemed to be relatively thick.

All this accomplished, Jerry went down to breakfast.

No one had noticed anything wrong in Sir William’s room, which Jerry had left as he found it. The Duke and Duchess of Ilvar were still making themselves unpleasant. Sir William asked if anyone had seen Alec, but didn’t seem terribly surprised when no one had.

At the mention of Alec, the Duke snorted a bit harder than one might have expected him to, and the Duchess sniffed and turned up her nose. Jerry saw the soprano giving her companion a knowing glance, which made him terribly curious. He was sitting next to the soprano, so he figured he might as well ask, in a low murmur, “What’s all that about?”

The soprano checked to see that the Duke and Duchess and Sir William were engaged in conversation, then responded, “I guess it’s not common knowledge, but… family feuds at that level of society are not quite what one expects, are they?”

It was actually exactly what Jerry would expect, but he wasn’t up on what went on with the Ilvars. “Family feuds?”

“Alec Pyne-ffoulkes is the Duke of Ilvar’s son,” the soprano murmured. “It’s kept quiet, though—all the Duke’s children don’t get along with them. They say it’s because of her.” She nodded at the Duchess. “Alec’s the worst of them, though, seeing as he went off to become an illustrator. The Duke won’t give his children a penny, of course, but for them to go into the working world… it’s a bit much by some people’s standards. Of course, anyone who looks at Alec’s art knows it’s nothing below a nobleman, really, but… well.” She grinned. “And you really didn’t know any of this? Jerry, you looked like a man who was well-informed.”

“Really and truly,” Jerry muttered. “How dreadfully interesting.”

“It’s probably why Alec’s left,” she added. “Of course he wouldn’t want to deal with his father. Oh, but I wish we could have seen that scene.”

Jerry was happy to learn there was apparently a very good reason for Alec to have gone missing without giving his hosts warning, but a little nonplussed at the news that Alec Pyne was apparently some noble. He didn’t particularly like nobles, for the most part. On the other hand, it was quite interesting that Alec had apparently decided to make a life for himself with honest work after getting into a feud with the Duke. A little more scandal and rebellion than Jerry had expected from the quiet portraitist—Jerry decided it suited him.

Regardless, he didn’t show any particular investment in Alec’s background, and let the conversation meander to other topics: horseracing, potential matches being made among the upper echelons, perhaps occasionally jewelry. But not too much.

He made sure to snatch a roll and an apple for Alec, which he presented to him a couple hours later. “I’ll take out the gag, but you can’t yell or anything. Otherwise…” Jerry lifted his eyebrows suggestively. There were various ways he could silence Alec. Probably he would just put the gag back in again, but there was no reason not to let Alec imagine something worse.

Alec didn’t scream. He didn’t even seem as annoyed as he probably should have been. He just said, “How do you expect me to eat without my hands free?”

“I’ll feed you, of course. Lord Alexander.”

This name drew a stronger reaction from him than the veiled threat. “Don’t call me that. I’m not—I’m Alec Pyne.”

“Hm, but you’re also Lord Alexander Pyne-ffoulkes. Probably as valuable as the jewels we’re here to steal. Should we abduct you for ransom?” Jerry tilted his head. He had no intention of doing so; as Templeton had said, kidnappings never went well. But… he didn’t mind teasing.

Alec laughed. “You won’t get much from my publisher, and less from my father. He wouldn’t lift a finger to save one of his children’s lives.” The bitterness in his voice seemed oddly certain. There was a story there for sure.

Jerry didn’t have time for that though. He was only here to feed Alec and rendezvous with Templeton, who arrived when Alec was halfway through the roll.

“I’ve made my inquiries. There’s a second safe, in a corner of the library. Recently installed. Don’t know why we didn’t hear about it until now.”

“The library.” Jerry rubbed his forehead. “Refuge of the bored house guest. Damn. We’ll have to wait until late again.”

“You’re really going to rob Sir William,” Alec said.

“Obviously.”

“Do you have to? He’s a nice man, very generous. He really doesn’t deserve to have his things stolen.”

“You can feel bad about it all you want, old man. You’re not the one stealing the jewels, and like I said, I don’t regret things,” Jerry said. “Having a nice house like this is asking people to rob it, no matter how nice of a host you are. He knows the risk of robbery as well as anyone; it’s why he has a new safe. If we’re better than the safe, don’t we deserve the prize?”

“You have an odd logic.”

“Talk philosophy later,” Templeton said, annoyed. “If we’re away too long, people will notice. Everyone’s going out for a walk—you should join them. I’ll see if I can get a peek at the library.”

Despite these brisk words, Jerry lingered a little while longer to chat with Alec after Templeton had gone. “So you know Sir William pretty well, then?”

“I’m his portrait artist. I wouldn’t say we’re intimate.”

Resisting the temptation to lapse into innuendo, Jerry said, “Why on Earth does that man have a sack of teeth in the safe in his bedroom?”

Alec frowned. “What?”

“I swear he has a small bag with a lot of small teeth in it. Does he go around punching people and collect all the teeth he knocks out? Or are these secretly the relics of saints purchased at high cost? Lord Alexander, I must know…”

“I told you to call me Alec,” Alec interrupted.

Jerry smiled. “So you did. You know, you are remarkably casual with your kidnapper.”

“Would having a blue fit really help this situation?” Alec said drily.

“No,” Jerry acknowledged. “It wouldn’t.”

“Obviously all of this is out of my control and I’m at your mercy. Not much to do about it.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you rather like that?”

Alec flushed.

Jerry grinned. “So? Is it the adventure of it all that you’re enjoying? Are you just so overworked that you like being forced to lie back and not do anything for once? Or perhaps it’s just that you have such a handsome kidnapper…”

He expected a vehement denial of all three, but Alec said, after a moment, “Would you believe it’s mostly the second?”

“Mm?”

“Honestly,” Alec said, “…I’ve been a little bit tired.”

The weird thing was, while it could have been an odd sort of retort, Jerry got the feeling that Alec was being completely sincere. It was the most innocuous of the three options he’d mentioned—no real admission that he was attracted to Jerry’s type, the bad man who would drag him into a world of adventure—and yet there was vulnerability there. Jerry looked into Alec’s eyes and he saw the truth of it: Yes, Alec did look tired.

Though Jerry still thought he was a little turned on.

Well, either way. He patted Alec’s cheek kindly if a little condescendingly. “That’s all right, then. I’m going back down to rejoin the party, and you’ll be going back in the wardrobe for a moment. You don’t have to worry about Sir William, or my nefarious plotting, or anything. Take a nap.”

He made sure to check the knots and re-gag Alec before leaving, but also asked if Alec was comfortable. Alec, who had turned a little red at Jerry feeling at his wrists and legs, nodded.

Jerry closed the wardrobe. “I think,” he muttered to himself, “I am leading that young man down a road of self discovery.”

Unsure whether this made him feel more benevolent or wicked, but immensely pleased with himself either way, he finally went back to the main party.

* * *

Alec did actually take a nap.

It was a bit hard to do so when cramped in a wardrobe, but it was also dark and warm and he hadn’t been lying about being tired. There was always so much work to do—illustrations, the recent commission from Sir William, bills to balance and his siblings to worry about—not to mention the added stress of the Ilvars showing up here, knowing Sir William wanted them to make up, and on top of it all, Cara’s death—on top, on bottom, and mingled amidst everything else like a poisonous fog.

It exhausted him. He knew he should be steadfast and persevere despite it all; that was how a man should behave. But at the moment, there was quite literally nothing he could do. So… he took a nap.

Jerry came back in to check on him in the afternoon. For a jewel thief, he struck Alec as quite thoughtful. Alec still felt a bit bad that Jerry was going to be stealing the Cookes’ things but, as Jerry said, it wasn’t Alec’s fault—except now he felt an odd sort of allegiance to the thieves. He wasn’t sure when that had evolved, but there it was. He wished they weren’t robbing the Cookes but he sort of wanted them to get away with it. The thought of Jerry being caught by the police did not appeal to him at all.

He did not communicate any of this to Jerry until late at night, when Jerry opened up the wardrobe to inform him that the game was almost over—he and “Templeton” (which appeared to be the valet’s name) were going to break into the safe.

He grunted.

Jerry frowned and freed the gag, by now not believing Alec would start screaming anymore. There was a strange sense of trust between them now, of conspiracy. “Eh, is something wrong?”

“No. I just wanted to say, good luck.”

Jerry laughed. “Thanks, old chap. We’ll be right back.”

They said this, but they seemed to take forever. Alec waited in the dark with the impatience and concern of a war wife. Of course, he told himself, if they got caught it really should be nothing to him. At least they’d search Jerry’s room and get Alec out of here…

It occurred to Alec that this would mean the police asking him a lot of questions, and the other guests as well most likely. What would be the likelihood that he could avoid the Duke and Duchess then? Not that they’d be worried about him or anything, but the chance to see him made a fool of might be too good for them to resist. The Duke might decide to play the fatherly role for just long enough to deliver a scolding and ask Alec how the hell he’d gotten himself into such a fix. Sir William would probably defend him, at least—which would mean Sir William and the Duke arguing, and Alec caught in the middle of it—or if the Duke didn’t deign to make an appearance, his absence would speak just as loudly, and Sir William would say something consoling about how of course the Duke was probably concerned but just felt awkward, so Alec would be understanding, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he?

Alec really, really hoped Jerry wouldn’t get caught. Though, even if he wasn’t—

This thought was interrupted by the door clicking shut, and then the wardrobe being thrown open. Jerry looked radiantly smug. “The luck of the devil! Come on out, Alec.” Alec had no ability to climb out himself, but Jerry supplemented his words by hauling him out himself and plopping him on the bed. “Would you believe, that pretty soprano—I can’t believe I still don’t know her name—had a secret meeting in the library? An assignation, as one might say. And Templeton and I had only _just_ got the safe closed again, and put the jewels in the valise. Fuck only knows what she thinks of us now—I know I had such a look on my face—but it seems robbery wasn’t on her mind. She thinks we have an understanding. If we weren’t going to disappear tonight, they’d probably suspect her of the theft—she has no real background, and I’m sure someone saw her going to the library; someone always does when you aren’t careful. But we’ll be heading out tonight, so she shouldn’t have any trouble.”

He cracked open the valise and gloatingly showed Alec a small bag of sapphires and rubies, holding each one up individually, tilting them to catch the lamplight. He even un-gagged Alec halfway through the performance, apparently for the sheer purpose of making Alec say the appropriate praise, though Alec didn’t know enough about jewels to say more than, “Oh, that’s a nice one” every single time.

“Yes, they’re all very nice,” Jerry said at last. “Jewelry too. Here, let’s try some on…” He took out a string of pearls and clasped it carefully around Alec’s neck. It was tight enough to almost be a choker, so it barely slipped under his collar. Then Jerry undid one of Alec’s buttons, and then another. He arranged the necklace with his own hand, cool pearls against Alec’s collarbone.

Alec swallowed.

“Not too tight, is it?” Jerry asked.

“No.”

“You look exquisite,” Jerry pronounced. “Frankly, I’d leave it on you, but they’d only take it away. And it might associate you with me, which I’m sure you don’t want.”

Alec was almost tempted to deny that.

Jerry unclasped the necklace and slipped it back into his valise. “There. Now, Templeton and I will have to make ourselves scarce. We need as big a head start as possible so I’m afraid I’ll have to put you back in the wardrobe…”

“No.”

Jerry paused. “No? My dear chap, not that we aren’t the best of friends by now, but…” He gestured almost helplessly. “You don’t really mind that much, do you? I thought you felt it rather cozy.”

“It’s not the wardrobe, but you can’t just leave me behind.”

“I can’t? What the hell else would I do?”

“It’s going to be an awful mess. And my father’s here. I really would rather not be here.”

Jerry stared. Alec bit his lip. He was being awfully presumptuous, he knew—there was no reason for a jewel thief who had kidnapped him to take his wishes into account, or care about his familial strife—but.

He really couldn’t bear the thought of the nightmare the next couple days would become if he was found tied up in Jerry’s room by the police.

Jerry let out a slow exhale. “…hm. Well, you have been very good.”

“I won’t try to get you caught.”

“I might actually believe you.” Jerry ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. I’ll take you back to London. But you’ll owe me.”

It seemed to Alec that it really should be the other way around; Jerry hadn’t spent the last day tied up in a wardrobe. But he nodded. “I’ve already told you I’m broke, though.”

Jerry grinned. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to repay me. On the trip back, how about you spend a little time thinking about that, hm? Or… if you’re too _tired_ to think about it all… I could.”

Alec swallowed. “All right.”

* * *

“I am going to murder you,” Templeton said.

“Chin up, Templeton. Alec’s not a pampered noble—he knows how to walk fast. We’ll still make good time.”

“You,” Templeton accused, “have given bad habits to our captive. Damn you, Jerry.”

“I’ll get him to draw your portrait,” Jerry said, “will that make you happy? Anyways I’ve already untied him. If we’re fucked, we’re fucked.”

“Oh, you—” Templeton sprinted ahead of Jerry to Jerry’s room. Jerry followed at a leisurely pace, and discovered, when he arrived, that Alec had freshened up a bit, changed his clothes and fixed his hair. No time to shave his stubble, but otherwise, he looked more put-together, and, having picked out his darkest clothes, quite ready for a subtle get-away.

Jerry still kind of wanted to give him the pearl necklace, but business was business, a take was a take, and he wanted the money. And Alec probably wouldn’t know what to do with it.

Jerry knew exactly what he wanted to do with _him_. He wondered if he would be able to pay a visit or two in the future to Alec’s domicile. Wondered what kind of a place Alec lived in, anyhow—the young lord turned illustrator, what was its habitat?—then pushed these thoughts away. He couldn’t let himself get so easily distracted. He cleared his throat. “Well then, gentlemen. We’d best be on our way.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to explain why Sir William had a small bag of teeth in his safe but you know what. It's better as a mystery.  
> Title is from Shakespeare's Sonnet 40.


End file.
